My Puppet
by ZanureyZ
Summary: Martin's early days of serving the Daedric prince, Sanguine. Rated T for sexual themes.


"Ah, very good, my little puppet. So here lies another victim to Sanguine." The Daedra's lips curled up in satisfaction. "You should be proud."

"I don't. I'm not proud." That was the truth. Straightforward and plain.

"Why, my dear boy. Surely that will fade. You are still early in your days of serving me."

"I guess so…" Sure, the idea of death and getting intoxicated was bad, and he only felt bad because that's what he was _supposed_ to feel… right?

But it felt different than that. Like there was no emotion at all.

"Come, Martin, let me show you what you will find in accepting my guidance." Sanguine led Martin up a stone staircase, hands on his shoulders and breath hot on his hear.

The shrine was as tall and breath-taking as ever. Martin didn't know if he would ever get used to that.

It was the way the shrine stood, with one leg perched atop a skull, the other strong and powerful. In one hand his mead, the other hypnotizing, for fear of it crashing down on top of him. And then those horns, and the look on his face. He was mighty, this prince. He had power, and he used it too, unlike most Daedra.

"You will serve this, me. You will serve because you know you want to," his voice was taking a seductive turn, causing Martin to flinch away, "and because I want you to." The same, nasty smile played around his lips.

"I-I will serve you, master." Martin said, in fear of saying otherwise. He knew when to fear Sanguine, and this was definitely the time.

"Good," he purred.

Soon the prince's spiritual form vanished into the statue, and away from Martin, who was now shaking uncontrollably.

"Now, I want you to go to the settlement west of the Imperial City. Oh, what's it called again? Weye? No matter. Go there, and bring me back the Altmer named Nerussa. I believe she has something I require."

"Very well, my lord." Martin said, walking away quickly.

"Oh, and make sure she brings that wine of hers," he added with a smirk.

Martin simply nodded, wanting desperately to escape to the calming roads and soothing sounds of the trees rustling in the breeze.

_Sounds a bit poetic, for a Daedra worshipper_, he said to himself.

xxx

On the road to Weye, Martin had an inner argument with himself about this whole Daedra thing.

_I shouldn't be doing this. Gods, if I wanted to worship a Daedra, why couldn't I choose Azura or Meridia? They would have been better choices._

As he argued with himself, he never noticed the shadow that followed him, clinging to darkness and staying out of the shine from Secunda. The moon was really, very pretty…

_Focus. This mortal is yours, and you cannot let him slip from your grasp by being distracted by the night sky, no matter how wondrous_, the being told itself.

Martin was now riding up the inn at Weye, Wawnet Inn.

Inside it was small, but warm. There was no one else around, which would make it easier, should Nerussa struggle.

Martin stood straighter, attempting to look tougher than he actually was, and walked up to the counter.

"Hello," the Altmer said, "welcome to the Wawnet in. May I offer a place to rest for the night, or perhaps some wine?"

"Um, no thank you. I'm here on behalf of Sanguine. He's told me you have something he requires." Martin said, praying desperately he would not stutter or tremble.

"S- sanguine? The Daedric prince? I'm sure you're mistaken…" she said, face going pale.

"I'm afraid not. Oh, and he's also asked me to tell you to bring the wine you have." Martin said.

"O- okay, just don't hurt me." She said, prancing in the back room to grab a bottle of wine.

When she came back with a regular bottle of Tamika's West Weald Vintage, something nudged at Martin.

Without thinking, he blurted out, "Not that."

"Surilie's, then?" she gulped.

"_No_." he told her firmly, again without thinking.

_What in Oblivion?_

"Oh… but that took me years to collect!" she cried.

Martin only looked at her, unmoving and eyes directly in hers.

She shuddered, and raced into her room, coming back with three bottles of a strange wine Martin had never seen.

"Very good. Let's go." He said.

Nerussa followed him out the door to the inn, trembling with confusion.

Why should Sanguine need her wine, and why should she need to follow? As far as she knew, she had no "unfinished business" with the prince. She'd never had anything to do with him!

xxx

As Martin again galloped to the shrine, Nerussa was on the verge of tears. She knew very well that Sanguine was the prince of debauchery, and intimacy of dark natures.

They both dismounted, never once taking their eyes from whatever was in front of them.

Together they climbed the stair to the shrine, Nerussa with the bottles in hand and Martin concentrating on what he was supposed to do.

"Ah, so you've returned!" Sanguine bellowed, or rather, his statue did. "And you brought the wine! Bring it here, set it in front of dear Sanguine's statue."

Nerussa did as she was told, keeping her eyes away from the sight.

"Look at me, mortal." He was again in his spiritual form, and his ghostly appearance disturbed Nerussa.

Slowly, Nerussa took her eyes from the ground, and led them upward to the demonic face, which slowly became wild.

"Martin! This one is shy of your prince!" he shouted, amusement obvious in his tone.

"Yes, lord." Martin said, looking at Sanguine, blank expression on his face and hands folded behind his back. He was in a trance, and deep within his mind he knew it. This was how it always was with Sanguine, whenever he did something that pleased the Daedra.

"Take off her clothes!" he shouted, smile and laughter all about him.

That seemed to snap Martin into reality for a split second.

"What!" he shouted, surprised with his own tone.

"You heard me! Clothes, now."

Nerussa could only stare, as Martin turned back into the lifeless creature under the hand of Sanguine.

"Yes, my lord." He said, turning to Nerussa.

He walked over to her, without his usual hesitation and nervousness.

"Wait, use this." Sanguine pulled out a glowing dagger, which Martin grabbed. As soon as he did, it turned into a plain steel dagger.

Nerussa stood where she was, feeling paralyzed by what was happening.

Martin was slowly cutting off her skirts and shirt, careful not to snag or slice any skin. It was eventful, and quite literally the most horrifying thing that had happened to her. She'd always lived a quiet life, on the edge of the city. She'd never done anything to deserve this.

"Hah! Bare as the day you were born!" Sanguine said, sloshing the mead in his mug. He was admiring the view, as would most men, but with much more perverse characteristics that didn't really exist. "Come here," he curled his finger in at her, smiling wickedly.

Nerussa did as he said, even though her feet felt like bricks and her legs stiff as boards.

"Very good…" he murmured, looking the mer up and down, nodding. "Martin! You may have this one!"

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, again with realization flickering in his blue eyes.

"What do you think I mean?" he growled.

"I- um, yes lord." He hesitated, before grabbing the woman and laying her down on the cool grass that lay before them. He had done this before on Sanguine's request, but he'd still hesitated then as well.

"I'll leave you two alone. Help yourselves to the Shadowbanish wine!" he disappeared again into his statue, but Martin knew very well that he would continue watching as he stole this girl's innocence.

xxx

_Three months later…_

Martin continued to serve Sanguine for these months, learning how to enjoy it without guilt. It was something he got used to, though he still admitted to being afraid occasionally.

Sanguine had started calling Martin his "puppet" more often than not, but no longer needed to steal his mind away from him. He would do what the Daedra wished.

"What a good little puppet…" he muttered, watching as Martin went to retrieve some skooma for the prince. He watched every time Martin did his bidding, enjoying it each time.

Martin had become his favorite worshipper. He was the only one who was willing to run through towns half naked, or literally steal someone's lungs. He didn't mind blood, or drugs or the sex that was included in worshipping the prince.

It seemed as though he'd sucked out the boy's soul, for he no longer had emotion left when performing tasks. This was one thing that Sanguine couldn't stand. He liked seeing the horrified look on someone's face, or the guilty pleasure it attempted to hide.

"Sad," he stated, going back to the mead he so favored.

_**Author's Notes: **_

Well, I had no idea I would be writing that. O.O

Thanks to Sometimes-normal (and the strange livestream conversation we had) I was able to write this in one night! It was fun, but not as dirty and perverted as the other one I wrote.

Well, hope you liked!


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